


satisfied

by domesticatedantelope (Vault_of_Glass)



Series: power couple [3]
Category: Ride or Die (Visual Novel)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Oral Sex, Smut with heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 09:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19373932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_of_Glass/pseuds/domesticatedantelope
Summary: The one where Colt delays breakfast.





	satisfied

Colt wakes up alone.

In the murky state between sleeping and waking, it feels wrong somehow - like a good dream cut abruptly short. He rolls onto his side, stuffing his face between the pillows to blot out the light and steal a few more precious minutes of sleep.

And then the smell of cinnamon tickles his nose.

He bolts upright, swiping a hand over the empty sheets beside him as it all comes flooding back.

_Mercy._

Mercy came home with him last night. She cleaned his bloodied knuckles, and kissed him on the couch, let him unwrap her like a fucking gift, and then he got between her legs and -

His head spins. Not a dream. 

Colt throws himself from bed, clenching his teeth against a sudden headrush as he reaches for the nearest pair of jeans. Mercy’s clothes are still scattered across his bedroom floor like spent shell casings, and he follows them back out into the hallway, walking the frantic path they stumbled last night.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee tempts him toward the kitchen, where he finds Mercy at the stove, wearing his shirt and very little else. 

His heart feels like it stops and starts again. For a breathless moment, he can only stare. The morning light casts gold over her skin, shining through the flimsy cotton of his shirt to tease him with the figure of her silhouette. Even from across the room, he can make out the faint red hickies bitten down her neck and shoulders, littered up the insides of her thighs - each one testimony to his teeth against her skin, and deep down in his selfish heart, he hopes they never fade. 

Mercy’s prodding a fluffy mass of eggs around one of his cooking pans when she turns and spots him in the doorway. A smile breaks like day across her face. “Good morning.”

Colt wracks his addled brain, but he can’t recall the last time someone cared enough to cook a meal for him. Some vulnerable part of him aches to life, like an old, deep wound that never healed right. He feels an involuntary warmth creep up his neck.

_Fuck me, I’m falling in love with her._

The realization leaves him speechless, and it takes him longer than he’d like to recover, finally taming his face into a neutral expression as his heart drums rapidly behind his ribs. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re a morning person.”

Her gaze flickers back over to him, straying brazen down the span of his bare chest. He watches that endearing blush unfold across her cheeks, the pink of rising suns. “Not every morning,” she admits, and smiles shyly.

_How can she be so precious and so fucking sexy at the same time?_

Colt stalks across the kitchen, drawn closer by the slim line of her neck like it’s calling his name. He slips his hand under the dark waves of her hair, brushing them aside to claim the space between her neck and shoulder, where that same sweet-spice of cinnamon clings to her skin. 

“Colt.” She laughs a little, bashful. It trails off somewhere toward a moan when he bites down. “ _Hah_. If you want something to eat, you’ll have to wait until I’m done with breakfast.”

His fingers run the bottom of his stolen shirt, hunting underneath it for the soft skin of her hips. When his mouth dips low to whisper in her ear, she shivers deliciously against him. “You sure about that?” He sucks at her throat, his tongue mapping a teasing shape against her skin. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“ _Colt_.” Softer this time, wanting, and it shouldn’t feel so good, persuading Mercy to be bad. But her smile when she turns is just as eager as his own, eyes wide and brightened with excitement. She bites her lip and sets her hands against his chest, sucking in a quiet breath when he cages her back against the counter. 

He reaches past her to turn off the burner, then sweeps her up onto the countertop, slotting himself into the space between her knees. Her legs are warm when they squeeze in around him, locking them together as if he’d ever think of straying; pressed against her heart, there’s not a single place on earth he’d rather be.

She leans down to brush her lips at the end of his mouth, smiling against his skin. “You know, you get really sweet when you look at me like that.”

“What are you  _doing_  to me.”

She laughs then, and loops her arms around his neck to kiss him in earnest. 

Mercy leaps into kisses like she throws herself from cliffs, that same cat’s curiosity that got her tangled up in the affairs of career criminals and kicked out of her father’s house. And when she devotes that restless fascination to exploring the lean contours of his chest and his tensing shoulders and his bottom lip caught between her teeth, he can’t help the feeling that she’s  _learning_  him, breaking him down to the molecular, and it is only a matter of time before she masters him as well. 

Her fingers curl into his hair and tug until a groan releases from his throat. She tastes like too sweet coffee, all sugar and cream, and the faint scent of cinnamon spirals down into his lungs ( _because of course Mercy smells like fucking Christmas, and now his bed does too_ ). He parts her lips to chase the sweetness on her tongue, his left hand landing at the small of her back and sliding her tighter against him.

Letting his mouth wander down her neck and shoulders, Colt finds a spot in the vicinity of her collarbone that summons shudders through her body, makes her nails drag biting lines across his back. Tiny prickles of pain shiver down to the erection straining hard against his jeans, where his cock twitches for the softness of Mercy’s body, close enough that he can feel the heat of her through his clothes.

His fingers climb the soft plane of her stomach, feeling her breathe beneath his touch. When his palm slides up between her breasts, she moans and sinks her teeth at the base of his neck, her thighs clenching in around his waist. 

“Okay,” she decides, with breathless certitude. “Fuck breakfast.”

Grinning, he hooks an arm around her waist and slings her easily over his shoulder. Mercy shrieks and scrabbles at his shoulders as he hauls her toward the bedroom, but there is laughter in her voice, and he feels her fingers sketching gently at the knots of vertebrae along his spine. 

When he deposits her across his bed, she stretches back against the sheets with an enamored smile. Her hair pools dark and smooth around her shoulders, and his eyes drag hungrily over the soft span of her skin - warm and bronze from the sun, like she holds the heat of it somewhere inside of her. 

As he stares, he can see the blush deepen across her cheeks, and he thinks that he could spend the next forever watching her. 

And then Mercy bites her lip and beckons him closer and he can’t wait another second.

They fall together like they did the first time, when they surfaced in the crashing waves of the Pacific, and it was just the two of them against those overwhelming currents. Colt anchors a hand at the back of her neck, kissing a breathy moan from her lips as she drags him between her legs. She pulls his shirt above her head, tossing it thoughtlessly aside, and then her bare skin is pressed warm and impossibly soft against his own. 

“Colt.” She practically whines his name, and fuck if the sound of Mercy pleading for him so impatiently doesn’t hit him like a punch to the gut. “I want you.”

“You’ll have me,” he promises, grazing his teeth across her bottom lip, to slow himself as much as her. “But I want to get my fill of you first.”

“ _Oh_.” The word seems to float off her tongue, and she hums a thoughtful, wanting noise when he starts to revisit the love bites he left scattered across her body last night. Her fingers thread into his hair, securing a firm enough hold there to sting pleasantly along his scalp. 

She squirms under his kisses, reacting but never retreating, biting back the echo of a giggle when his lips find a ticklish nerve in her side. Her legs open easily to his touch, trusting, inviting, and his heart clenches at the bashful anticipation in her eyes when she smiles at him. 

God, he wants to make her scream.

He sprawls out on his stomach, tugging Mercy closer by the thighs and dragging her greedily against his mouth. Her gasp splits the quiet, fingers clenching tight in his hair. She is slick warmth and silky wet under his mouth, and he takes his sweet time relearning her in long, slow strokes of lips and tongue. 

Mercy is delightfully responsive, begging, sighing, arching up against him. She tries to curb her voice at first, but it clearly becomes a losing battle when a particularly thorough roll of his tongue has her crying his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

“Shit,” she gasps, and yanks playfully at his hair when she hears him laugh against her skin. “Your fault.”

“ _Good_.” He pauses only long enough to flash her a smirk before rounding his lips over her clit and pulling with the faintest suction. Her heels dig clumsily into his back as she bucks against his hands, and he tightens his grip on her thighs, locking her in place beneath his mouth. 

“Oh -  _oh_!” Mercy sobs and shivers, hips seizing through waves of tension. “Yes… Colt,  _please_ , I’m…!”

Gliding his hand between her thighs, he slips two fingers down the wet length of her folds, pushing in and filling her in one slow, determined motion, and the first press of his fingertips inside of her is all it takes to tip her over.

His name lifts from her lungs in a shattered gasp as he feels her clench around his fingers, feels her thighs slide in around his head and the devastating shudder tensing through her body. She writhes and moans until her voice breaks off into labored panting, and her legs drop weakly to his shoulders. She struggles to drag him away when he continues sucking at her skin, her hips shivering with overstimulation.

Colt reluctantly releases her, swiping an arm across his wet mouth and admiring the mess he’s left of her. Her skin glistens with slick between her thighs, chest flushed rose gold and working desperately for breath. She stares back at him from under heavy lids, and slowly a smile curls across her lips. 

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

Groaning, he claims her mouth in a messy kiss, groping blindly for the drawer of his side table until his fingertips graze plastic-wrapped foil. He tears the wrapper open and grips himself before Mercy stops him with a gentle touch to his wrist.

“Let me.” She takes the condom from his hand when he holds it out to her. Her fingers hug in tight around him, teasing him with a few lazy strokes before she sets the slick latex against the head of his cock and slowly rolls it down. He throbs against her palm, hissing into his teeth at the torturous sensation.

Holding Mercy’s gaze, Colt falls back against the bed and leads her legs over his waist. Her hands are planted firmly on his chest, the dark curtain of her hair spilling down over her shoulder as she guides his cock against the heat between her thighs. Just that first feel of her is overwhelming, scorching hot at the tip of his cock, and his body strains desperately for more.

She takes a steadying breath and eases herself slowly down around him. That wet heat sucks him deeper in brutal increments, like being driven inch by inch into the sun; it burns all the thoughts from his brain as he watches pain and pleasure war across her features.

It takes every ounce of his restraint not to thrust up into her. He grits his teeth and licks the salt of sweat from his upper lip. “Okay?” he slurs, kneading rough fingers at her hips.

“Oh,  _yesssss_.” The word ravels out on her tongue as she sinks lower, taking more of him with a moan and a brief wince.

“Easy,” he breathes, and soothes his hands over the tense muscles in her thighs. 

“It’s  _good_ ,” Mercy assures him in a whimpered voice, gripping her nails into his shoulders. She swivels down the last breadth of space between them until her hips are cradled flush against his own, and for a moment they simply cling to each other, adjusting.

And then her face softens into the sweetest expression of relief, and she rolls her hips, nudging him against some point inside of her that makes her moan in pleasure.

Colt can barely scrape a strangled laugh together, delirious at the silky softness gripped around his cock. “Speed demon.”

“I need you,” she says simply, resting a slender hand against his jaw. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

He kisses the valley of her palm. “I’m yours.”

Biting her lip, Mercy falls into motion, rocking an unsteady rhythm with her hips. He catches her gently around the waist and steadies her movement, guiding her to meet his own tight thrusts until they’re grinding against each other in perfect time, chasing the addicting wrings of pleasure every time they fit together. 

“ _Cooolt_.” She stretches his name into a sinful thing, hushed like a secret between clumsy kisses down the line of his jaw. “Please…  _more_ …”

In two swift motions, he hooks an arm around the small of her back and rolls her underneath him. His first careful thrust into her body shocks him anew with the perfection of that stunning fit, winding at the pressure in his gut like a tightening fist. Mercy gasps and moans and tugs him closer with urgent hands and fingernails. 

“ _Fuck_ , Mercy.” Colt drops his head against her shoulder, dragging in a shuddering breath. “You feel so good, sweetheart.  _So good_.” He fucks a few shallow thrusts, muffles his groans against her mouth in a bruising kiss. 

Mercy is just as loud beneath him, sobbing nonsense sounds in the back of her throat. Her mouth falls open in a voiceless scream as he sets his teeth against her throat and ruts harder into her. Every tempting sound tears at his self-control. She’s so sweet beneath him, singing his name, looking like every single fantasy he’s ever had come to life, and she  _feels_  even better, better than he could have ever tried to imagine; if he isn’t careful, he will come in an instant. 

His hand drifts to the crossroads where their bodies meet and finds her clit with the pad of his thumb. She jerks, too rough, so he gentles his touch, teasing his free hand over the curves of her body, tracing her nipples until they stiffen into little points. 

“Ohmygod,” she cries, all one word. Her eyes glisten with the threat of tears as violent shivers wrack through her. “Colt, that’s - oh, fuck!” Even that profanity sounds more like prayer when she pleads it against his skin. 

Her thighs begin to clench on either side of him, arching her hips up to meet every thrust. His thumb continues playing frantically over her clit, and he groans as her sex twitches around his cock, leading into the first pulses of her climax when she unravels again.

Colt likes to watch her come - it’s his new favorite thing in the world - but the feeling of her coming tight and slick and hot around his cock tears him across that line, and he can barely watch the ecstasy twist across her face before his head drops and his eyes slip closed, dropping him into the blackness of oblivion. Pleasure ripples through him, lighting every atom of his body up like fireworks, and he fucks out the last few dizzying squeezes of bliss as he spills into the condom, deep inside of her.

He pants against her shoulder, deafened by the rushing of his heartbeat in his ears. Her lips dust sated kisses across his cheeks and nose, nudging the corner of his mouth until he breaks out into an exhausted smile.

“You okay?”

Mercy nods, and the open affection in her eyes steals the last of his breath. “Oh, yes.”

Her mouth moves slowly when he kisses her again, lagging with exhaustion, but still eager to respond. Reluctantly he parts and dips his head against hers, his thumb gliding feather-light over the soft angles of her face. 

“Thank you,” she says in a small voice, and her hands clutch him with the same fervid determination, as if she might keep him in her arms forever by sheer force of will alone.

He wants to promise that he isn’t going anywhere, but the words stick like thorns in his throat. “For what?”

Mercy considers her response, nibbling at her swollen lip as he rubs soothing shapes into the sensitive skin over her ribs. “For seeing me,” she confesses finally, and there is hurt behind the words, echoes of pain he wishes he could soften. “For coming back to get me.”

Slowly, softly, Colt leans down to kiss the bow of her lips. “I liked what I saw.” And he smirks, smoothing his thumb around one of the bite marks blooming fresh under her skin. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”

Eventually they tear themselves from bed again, and they dress each other with lingering touches, learning each other in the lazy warmth of afterglow, without the urgency of need to rush them. 

In the kitchen, they feed each other cold eggs from the pan, and it’s the best damn breakfast Colt has ever eaten. 


End file.
